


the curse-breakers

by onceuponamirror



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 18:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7944124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponamirror/pseuds/onceuponamirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HP AU: When Emma got pregnant in her 6th year of Hogwarts, she put her dream of being an Auror on hold. Over a decade later, Emma finally gets her chance to put her wand to good use, working as a curse-breaker for Gringotts alongside Killian Jones, who she'd never thought to see again. The search for treasure takes them on a journey of old wounds, a battle of new ones, and a love thought long lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

Emma remembers him, of course, from school. Him and his pack of Hufflepuff friends—Graham, Will, and Ruby, constantly huddled over a mysteriously blank piece of parchment or some Weasley product, or sneaking rum into the Three Broomsticks, or loudly hanging around the Quidditch pitch seemingly exclusively whenever Gryffindor was practicing.

She wasn’t sure if it was just when they'd reserved the field, but the last few years, the two houses were always neck and neck for the cup, and she highly doubted that Killian Jones hung around to annoy the _Slytherin_ seeker the way he did her.

Not that she was special, but she was his direct competition. And he never let her forget it, grinning toothily at her, even when she gave him the slightest of reactions. And one day, he went from awkward to handsome, his jaw filling out and his face catching up to his nose. Her stomach would flip at the sight of him, and she hated herself for it—because he was annoying and _arrogant_ and—

Then she stopped seeing him around when she started dating Neal, a smooth-talking Ravenclaw from the year ahead, a welcome distraction from Jones and her unrequited sexual tension. She got the impression the two boys didn’t really get on, something she later got confirmed by Mary Margaret, his fellow Hufflepuff.

Emma never knew why it bothered him so, but when she pressed her friend, the dark-haired girl had hummed something in consideration, passed her a pointed look, and turned back to her pumpkin juice, saying nothing more.

After Neal (god, _after Neal_ ), she never went back for her 7th year. Hogwarts was no place for a new baby, and even though her adopted mother Ruth was willing to raise Henry while Emma finished her schooling and take her N.E.W.T.s., Emma knew she couldn’t go back.

Couldn’t face the rumors, or see any of Neal’s old Ravenclaw friends, August and Elsa, who she’d grown so close to and genuinely liked (more than Neal at times, when she looks back on it).

And they’d just ask her questions, questions she wouldn’t have the answers to till much later—they would want to know where Neal had gone too, why he was suddenly on the lam just a few months shy of finishing Hogwarts.

(She’d known he had issues with his father, but not to that extent. Apparently, unable to take it anymore, he’d gone to the states, and hadn’t come back. His father, the powerful head at the Department of Mysteries, never even knew about her.)

(Neither know about Henry, and she is grateful.)

That year, Emma kept in touch with her friends best she could, but between her baby and balancing a minor secretary job at the Ministry, it was hard to find time to send an owl.

After school, her adopted brother David got his (and her) dream job at the Auror office, and they briefly commuted to work together, leaving Henry with Ruth. Mary Margaret, now David’s girlfriend, and her good friend Ruby had also gotten jobs with the Ministry (Department of Education and Department of the Regulation & Control of Magical Creatures, respectively), and for a short while, it was nice—she felt normal again, having things to do and people to see.

But she always turned down the offers for a pint at the Leaky Cauldron after work from Ruby, knowing exactly who she’d be meeting up with.

The thought of seeing Killian Jones’ face made her stomach twist into knots, and she didn’t dare ask herself why. The last time she’d seen him, after all, he’d been glaring daggers at her, with Neal running out onto the pitch to congratulate her on their game, the golden snitch still clutched in her fingers. His eyes had been so blue, and his expression so raw—hurt, anger, if she dares to name it—that she’ll never forget it.

That’d been a week before it all went to shit.

Years passed, and things changed. Emma and Henry found their own flat in London, David moved up the Auror ranks and moved in with Mary Margaret, and Ruby finally started dating her old friend and coworker at Magical Creatures Graham, both of whom who finally were in the positions of power to advocate against the treatment of werewolves, something they’d long carried passionate—but hushed—debates over.

Ruby was particularly sensitive to the issue, but equally defensive to questioning of it and the conversation was always effectively shut down.

Her fellow Gryffindor Belle French had come into some money and bought Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore on Diagon Alley, and started seeing Will Scarlet, a bartender at the Leaky Cauldron. August, who she eventually got back in touch with, went to work for his father at Gepetto’s, the longtime wand shop rival for Ollivander’s.

And when Emma’s old Gryffindor friend Robin Locksley offered her a transfer into the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, she took it. She was just an assistant, but with only her O.W.L.s to go off, it was the best she could do. It paid the bills.

She later learned that Robin was now dating Regina Mills of all people, a Slytherin from Emma’s year. She was on the Wizengamot now, but held an obvious eye for the minister’s position. Regina had never liked Emma at school (and vice versa), but lately was warming to her, and Emma began to think she might not make such a bad Minister of Magic. It was about time they had a woman in office.

Henry grew up, and she’d nearly broken into tears the day he got his letter. But she hadn’t truly cried until he boarded the train for Hogwarts, hoping to become a Gryffindor, just like his mum.

She’d heard Jones’s name in passing, of course, over the years—mainly by Ruby, accompanied by a curiously withering look at Emma—but knew he was off on his adventures, having taken a curse-breaking job at Gringott’s, and had long shed her irrational fear of running into him.

But it wasn’t until the owl from Elsa that Emma’s life was sent colliding back into his.

Elsa, also a curse-breaker, had been recently offered a particularly lucrative job halfway across the world, but the dates coincided with her younger sister’s wedding in Norway, and she wouldn’t be able to go. And she wanted Emma to take her place.

Rather than waste time with an owl, Emma had decided to call Elsa, who picked up on nearly the last ring. Emma was a bit surprised she picked up at all, given Elsa’s suspicion with anything muggle, especially their technology.

“Emma! So good to hear from you,” She’d said, sounding pleased. “You got my owl, I take it?”

“Yeah, hey,” Emma had replied, holding up the parchment in front of her, “I did. Listen, I’m flattered, but, you remember I didn’t finish Hogwarts, right? I don’t have the qualifications to be a curse-breaker.”

Emma had practically seen Elsa pursing her lips on the other line. “I understand, but I took O.W.L.s with you, Emma, and I remember your scores. You did well enough that my contact at Gringotts, Leroy, is willing to take you on. This would be your trial period.”

“Elsa, I just can’t up and leave my job at the Ministry for something that is only a trial period. I have a kid to support, remember?”

A pause. “Defense against the dark arts, year three.”

“What?”

“We were doing boggarts, and I was in front of you in line. We barely knew each other then. And I was so scared what was going to come out of that wardrobe, that it was going to overpower me–and you helped talk me down, helped me let go of my fears. Without you, I don’t know what would’ve happened, or where I’d be now. I owe you this opportunity, and you owe it to yourself.”

Emma had sighed. “Elsa…”

“You’ve been working to get by, but with Henry at school now, you can afford some change. I remember you wanted to be an Auror, as long as I’ve known you, and this is as close as I can get you. This is your boggart, Emma, and it’s time to face it.”

For a long while, Emma had been silent, letting Elsa’s words settle in her mind. She thought about her job in the Misuses office, and how long each day felt. She thought about the dangers of walking head first into an ancient tomb. And she thought about her son, and the hero she wanted to be for him. Then, finally, “Okay.”

.

.

And that’s how Emma finds herself now, looking down the dimly lit passage of an emerald-studded tomb, staring into the eyes of Killian Jones.


	2. out of the frying pan

“Merlin’s beard,” she breathes. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the light emanating from her wand, no less blue than she remembers. She’d known there would be another curse-breaker, but— “ _Jones_?”

“Swan?” He replies, a moment later, squinting at her. And then his expression shifts, from confusion to fear to anger, and he lifts his wand, flourishing it threateningly. “Well that’s bloody low of you, witch,” he hisses, stalking forward. “ _Stupefy_!”

“ _Protego_!” She just barely blocks his spell, but it sends her back a few feet. She glares up at him, digging her heels into the soft dirt of the catacomb. “What the hell!” She shouts, raising her wand. Jones advances on her, eyes wild with fury. He inhales, and she realizes what he’s about to do.

“ _Confringo_!”

“ _Expelliarmus_!”

She dodges the fireball that explodes from his wand just as it is thrown from his hand. She lands next to the wand, and scrambles to pick it up. Immediately, Jones sinks to his knees, defiantly meeting her eyes. His expression is contorted with pure hatred, and it cuts straight through her, thinking of the boy who used to tease her in charms class. 

“Figures I’d be bested by her,” he spits, voice laced with self-loathing. “Well, don’t prat around. Do it then, green one. _I’m ready for the wand_.”

 _Green one?_ Her eyes widen, pieces coming together. Leroy, the goblin from Gringotts who she’d been in contact with, warning her that the tunnels in the tomb were rumored to cursed, and play tricks on those who entered; clearly Jones had had the same warning.

She slaps him across the cheek, hard. "What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you tell me from some ancient booby trap hex?”

Startled, his eyebrows knot together as he looks up at her. He scrambles to his feet but stays back, staring at her as if he’s afraid to touch her. “Swan? _Emma_? It’s truly you?” He falters, a pained look crossing his features as he realizes what he did. He steps forward, his hand hovering over her shoulder, not quite daring to land. “I didn’t hurt you, didn’t I?”

“No,” she exhales, and she knows she should be angrier, but she’s honestly just glad the darkness is gone from his face. Seeing the hatred in his eyes, directed at her…it had ripped straight through her, leaving her feeling raw and exposed. Emma purses her lips. “Not for lack of trying though.”

He drops his head. “I thought you were the witch in disguise, or an apparition sent to lower my guard. These tunnels are rumored to be—”

“Cursed, I know,” she finishes, eying him warily. There’s something off that she can’t quite put her finger on, like why he so readily jumped to the assumption that she’d have been a trick sent for him. Was it really so strange for her to be working as a curse-breaker?

His lips twitch, despite it all. “Not that I’m wholly opposed to a Hogwarts reunion, but what are you doing here, love?”

“Beginning to ask myself the same thing,” she replies, passing him back his wand. She sighs, falling in line with him as he gestures for her to follow him deeper into the cave. “Elsa. After they’d already sent a curse-breaker out here to Slovenia, apparently you, they decided you might need back up. Elsa was the only one available in Europe, but her sister is getting married, and she couldn’t come. She recommended me for the job.”

“Gringotts must’ve been pretty impressed with you to start you out on a job this big,” Killian muses, pride unmistakably coloring his words. The green stones lining the caverns glitter between them, his eyes bright as he looks as her.

Emma scoffs. “That or they were pretty desperate.”

“This job must be more dangerous than I was previously warned,” he quips, and he probably shouldn’t sound so excited. She rolls her eyes.

“Good to know you haven’t changed at all,” she says lightly, and feels him stiffen next to her. His fingers curl around her wrist, imploring her to look at him.

“I have changed, Emma,” he murmurs quietly, a sense of urgency wavering in his voice. "I'm not that boy you knew on the Quidditch pitch." She blinks at him, not sure what he means but afraid to ask, and feels a shiver run up her spine. She’d forgotten how intense Killian Jones could be at the flip of a switch.

Emma pries her wrist from his grasp, moving away from him. She thinks she hears him sigh, but doesn’t want to dwell on it. They fall into a short silence, though she can practically hear his mind flying like a runaway golden switch. Then, finally, like he can’t help himself, “So, not even going to ask me how I am, Swan? It’s been what, eleven years? Love, I’m hurt.”

She snorts, but decides to play along. She’d rather talk to him than stalk through a creepy green-hued tunnel in silence. “ _Okay_ Jones, how are you?”

“Swimmingly, now that I’m in your lovely company, thanks for asking,” he replies, winking at her. “How’s your lad?”

At the thought of Henry, Emma smiles, and he sees it, his eyes softening. “He’s good. He started Hogwarts this year.”

“It’s been that long, has it?” He muses to himself. “Tell me he got Hufflepuff.”

“You wish,” she scoffs, but can’t hide the proud grin that tugs at her lips. “Gryffindor.”

“Like his mum,” Killian replies, looking oddly proud too. “I wanted to be in Gryffindor, you know.”

“What, not Slytherin?” She teases, and they both look a little surprised that she was so bold. But Killian looks pleased, and she knows she can’t take it back.

“Ha-bloody-ha,” he says, rolling his eyes. “No, love. I wanted to be in Gryffindor, like my brother.” She faintly remembers the elder Jones, mainly because she’d had a bit of a crush on him when she was a third year and he was a prefect. David had also looked up to Liam Jones like he was the second coming of Harry Potter; she was pretty sure David modeled his school schedule after the one Liam had, so he’d have been on the same track.

Emma also knew that something had happened to Liam not long after graduation; he’d gotten a job as an Auror, but something had gone wrong on a routine job. David had told her once, much later, but the details were blurry.

She turns her gaze back to Killian, suddenly remembering Killian had also expressed interest in the Auror office—until one day, when he hadn’t.

He has a faraway look on his face now, but when he notices she’s looking at him, he snaps back into reality, quickly shaking the expression like it’d never been there at all. “I’d hoped for Gryffindor, feared Slytherin, and expected Ravenclaw. Certainly never saw bloody Hufflepuff coming. I’ll never forget sitting under that damned Sorting Hat; felt like ages.”

“I actually remember your sorting taking a long time,” she says wistfully, thinking back to first year. (What a world ago.)

“I stand out in your memory there, Swan?” His smirk only grows when she rolls her eyes, but doesn’t correct him. “It decided that because I wanted Gryffindor out of  _loyalty_ to my brother, I should be in Hufflepuff, as that outweighed my bravery, wit, and cunningness.”

“Modesty too,” Emma quips, though he’s right; she remembers him having all three of those core characteristics. Killian Jones could’ve been in any house, really, and it’d always struck her as odd he’d been put into Hufflepuff.

“Bloody hat said that once I swore myself to something, it was a vow that could not be broken.” He glances at her curiously. “Suppose it was right. Of course, I’m quite grateful now. I quickly learned there’s no better friend than a Hufflepuff.”

She smiles. “That I can agree with.”

“Aye, you’ve gotten quite close with Mary Margaret and Ruby, haven’t you?”

Emma nods. “But Ruby was the only one I told about this gig. I can’t trust Mary Margaret to keep it to herself, and didn’t want to risk David trying to talk me out of it.”

“Would’ve been bloody foolish of him to try; he should know better than to underestimate you when you’ve put your mind to something.” The compliment falls from his lips too easily for Emma’s liking, as if he actually believes it. 

Flirtatious but harmless banter, she can handle—that’s always been their relationship—but it’d be another beast entirely if it actually belied something deeper.

She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she doesn’t say anything at all.

They fall into silence as they pass deeper into the catacomb. It’s comfortable with him, but she doesn’t like the quiet of the cave; the emeralds gleam at her, almost malevolently, and she can’t help but feel like she’s being watched. Her thoughts drift to earlier, remembering what he’d called her before he’d realized it was her. “Jones,” she murmurs, and he looks at her. “You called me ‘green one,’ before you realized it was me. Why?”

“Ah, right,” he sighs. “Leroy wouldn’t have had that intel. What do you know about this place?”

Emma wracks her brain for the rushed debriefing she’d been given. “These are the ruins of a castle owned by a mad witch in the Slovenian mountains, about three hundred years ago. She was killed by her sister when she sealed her in here with the treasure. She was obsessed with gold and emeralds, and hoarded them deep in the mountainside. Muggle grave-robbers and curse-breakers have been looking for the entrance since.”

Killian nods approvingly, and stops walking. They’ve come to a fork in the tunnel; he rubs at an emerald lodged in the wall and murmurs something under his breath. Emma touches one on her right, briefly wonders why they’re wasting their time with trying to find galleons when there’s a glittering green treasure lining the walls.

He glances at her, as if reading her thoughts. “These ones aren’t real. Just stones enchanted to look like emeralds, and another defense mechanism of the witch. If one attempts to remove the stone, they’re hit with a nasty hex. Apparently. I don’t intend to find out. This way,” he says, leading her to the left, and surprisingly, she doesn’t fight him, trusting his lead.

“How do you know that? About the stones, I mean?”

“I did some digging around the local towns before coming up here to see what kind of legend I was up against. Gringotts tends to give a skeleton of a story, and muggles usually know more than they realize.” He grins at her, tapping his temple with his wand. “Trick of the trade to remember, Swan.”

She smirks at him, and he returns it in kind, not skipping a beat. “Legend says she dabbled in magic so dark it literally turned her green, though I suspect it to be more likely a backfired curse. Still, she was certainly formidable. Even the muggles in the local villages know this area to be haunted and avoid it. They call her the green ghost— _Zelena_ ; it’s Slovenian for green.”

Emma rolls his words around in her mind, processing them. “Scary ghost. Got it.”

He shoots her a sidelong look. “Ghosts are standard in this line of work, and I’d be quite capable of handling one on my own. Gringotts knows that. If they sent another curse-breaker in after me, they learned something they haven’t told us. We should be very wary, love.”

She wants to warn him not to call her his love, but there’s something in his voice that holds her tongue. His eyes have taken on an icy pallor; he’s being quite serious. “They wouldn’t send us in here if they thought it was too dangerous,” she says finally, more to herself than him. She hopes so, anyway.

He clucks his tongue. “This isn’t the Auror office, darling. You underestimate the value goblins put on gold, and the risks they’re willing to take to get it." He doesn't have to say it, but he does anyway, "Those risks being our lives.”

Emma swallows, wondering, not for the first time, what exactly she’s gotten herself into.

* * *

They cut down another passageway, and just when Emma’s about to ask how deep into the labyrinth he intends to take her, his arm jumps out, bracing against her stomach. “Wait just a tic, love,” he whispers, staring at the emerald configuration ahead of them. “These ones are different. Look.”

Emma does, realizing that’s how he’s been determining their path. These emeralds in front of them are all perfect hexagons; they’re all perfect, period, and together, make the vague shape of a door. Without thinking, she raises her wand. “ _Aparecium_!”

Sure enough, the emeralds begin to gleam, revealing the outline of a large door, but nothing more. Certainly no doorknob. She feels Killian glance at her, but doesn’t give him a moment to speak. “ _Reducto_!” She says, with a strong flourish of her wand. Immediately, the wall caves in, and a golden beam of light floods the passageway.

They gasp in tandem, staring out at the expanse revealed to them: beyond the now-crumbled wall lies a sizable cavern, its landscape molded out of hills of glittering gold and brilliant emeralds, so bright they couldn’t be anything but real.

Hesitantly, they step forward into the room, sliding a bit under the shifting galleons. “Bloody hell,” Emma breathes, and whether or not it’s because she stole his trademark expression or because of the treasure lying beyond them, she’ll never know, but Killian actually laughs next to her.

He sounds so deliriously happy that it’s contagious, and soon she feels giggles bubbling in her throat. She claps her hands over her mouth, but it’s too late. Killian picks her up and spins her around, still laughing. They slip a bit under all the gold, but Killian holds her true and strong,

“You were bloody brilliant, just then, Swan! Amazing!” He says as he drops her back to her feet, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Dimly, she notes he hasn’t quite released her, his embrace still warm around her waist.

Suddenly, something catches his eye, and he untangles his arms. She feels an odd pang of disappointment. Killian bends over, gingerly reaching for a shining jewelry box. He opens it, grinning, and withdraws a ruby-studded ring for himself, fitting snugly over his thumb.

“I always take a token from my plunders,” he explains, noticing her watching him. He then crooks his finger back into the box, pulling up a simple diamond-studded gold hoop on a small chain. It’s lovely, and she can’t help but appreciate he knew to pick it over the other gaudy baubles in the box. He gestures for her to turn around, and she lets him slip it around her neck, pulling her hair aside.

If he notices that she inhales sharply when his fingers brush her skin, he doesn’t comment.

“You sound more like a pirate than a curse-breaker,” Emma murmurs, hating how breathless she sounds. She turns to face him slowly, her fingers resting on the necklace.

His pupils are blown wide, his eyes so dark there’s barely any blue left in them. He reaches forward, twisting a strand of her blonde hair around his finger. “Yes, well,” he replies lowly, huskily, “I have always had a thing for gold.”

She doesn't know if it's the adrenaline of finding the treasure or if it's just years of wondering what it'd be like to kiss the boy who teased her, but Emma finds herself moving forward, as if propelled by a magnetized force. Her mind stills, and suddenly wants nothing more than to be close to him. Her lashes brush his cheek as he crooks his neck, lowering his mouth to hers.

Then, just as their lips are about to touch, a loud round of clapping pulls her mind back into reality. They spring apart to find a woman standing at the top of a nearby mound of gold, clapping theatrically. She’s dressed in all black, a witches cap settled on a jumble of bright red curls. And, most ominously, her skin practically glows a vibrant emerald green—and, to Emma's horror, very much flesh and blood.

Zelena is no ghost.

“Oh no,” she scolds, her voice melodic but no less sinister. “Don’t stop on my account. It was just getting good.”

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please review!!! this is the end of the pre-written stuff. i hope to get the next installment (or two, i haven't figured it out yet) up this month. and you know the drill, reviews make all of us work faster. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> helloooo! i wrote this about a year ago and am finally getting around to finishing it and posting it here. this was inspired by a post where i decided all the characters professions in the HP world. 
> 
> "curse-breaking" is kind of an off-handedly mentioned profession in the books where witch and wizards are employed by Gringott's bank to hunt for treasure in ancient sites. i headcanoned that CS were curse-breakers, largely because it really reminded me of their beanstalk journey, and thus...this fic. 
> 
> (that's also probably all the HP info you'll need if you're otherwise largely familiar with the books)
> 
> i'll be posting the second chapter soon (already written) and the third...possibly a fourth...in the coming weeks, but some reviews will absolutely encourage me to get it done faster......wink wink 
> 
> (and yes, i put graham and ruby together because....werewolves, and i wrote this part well before dorothy was ever introduced. i ship all ruby ships, lbr, but this one fit the story better. so i didn't change it)


End file.
